


Where Do We Go (When It's All Over)

by ArtsyDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Complicated Relationships, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Painful Sex, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 20:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyDeath/pseuds/ArtsyDeath
Summary: Their bond is a complicated thing that knots up in a shared understanding of the two men that had influenced their lives.One dead by his hands, the other by hers.-Or: Harry learns of Snape's survival, chases him down and twists them up into something else entirely even as Snape does his best to show her that there's nothing worth wanting.





	Where Do We Go (When It's All Over)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImmortalYoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalYoshi/gifts).



> Request prompt for Severus Snape/Female Harry Potter + Pregnancy Kink by ImmortalYoshi!

_”He isn’t here, Harry.”_

_”He never arrived in with the injured.”_

_“Snape? Haven’t seen him since-“_

Harry hears Hermione’s shout behind her but she ignores it, dodging past Neville and Luna both and out the Great Hall with a strange swelling of anger inside of her as she pelts down the grass green fields where the dead are still being gathered up and steps past the apparition point with Hagrid’s voice ringing in her ears as she draws the Elder Wand and turns on her heel.

 _He’s been serving Voldemort for years,_ she thinks furiously as the world blurs around her, hanging onto the Elder Wand with intention. _Of course he knew how to combat the venom of the damn snake he takes everywhere!_

The world centers and Harry lunges for the dark shape before it has a chance to anticipate her and they tumble to the ground in a mess of his dark robes and the blood splattered dress she’d worn for the last battle and she’s intent to get the upper hand but they are going _downhill_ and she finds herself pushed down hard over and over again beneath his weight as they struggle against each other as they roll.

They go over the edge and he twists, getting her down below him, and she lands – breath stolen, a wheeze slipping past her lips, him spread over her hips with his hands grasping and pushing down on her upper arms as she lurches to twist their position.

 _“What,”_ he grounds out, still sounding a bit winded, eyes cold as he looks down upon her, “exactly do you think you’re doing _Potter?_ ”

She bares her teeth at him.

 _“Me?”_ she demands furiously. “You’re the one running away like a _coward!_ ”

His grip on her arms tightens and she twists, trying to draw her legs out from beneath him only to have him level his weight upon her harder, pinning her in place as she bucks up against him with a livid snarl.

“Be _still_ you foolish girl _,_ ” Snape snaps but it only makes her struggle harder – blind fury rearing hard inside of her as she digs her fingers into the earth and claws against his superior strength, fighting against the mishmash of emotions inside of her, the overwhelming mess of _everything_.

He holds her until she’s exhausted what reserves remained after dying and coming back to life, defeating Voldemort and facing the reality of what the war had cost her – what it had led to - and her mouth is twisting up even as his hold slowly relaxed into something less bruising.

“Done?” he asks, breathing just a bit strained.

Harry looks up at him, staring at those cold dark eyes that had haunted her from her first Potions lesson – the man who had stolen the man she loved as a mentor on his own word and demand.

_“I thought… all these years… that we were protecting her for her. For Lily.”_

_“You have kept her alive so that she can die at the right moment? You have used me… I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to keep Lily Potter’s daughter safe. Now you tell me you have been raising her like a pig for slaughter.”_

Harry’s mouth twists from the memories, eyes burning as she desperately scrunches them shut.

_“After all this time?”_

_“Always.”_

When she opens them up again tears spills from the corners and Snape draws a sharp breath above her, grip loosening, and Harry takes her chance – pushing up, forcing him down below her, straddling his hips and pinning him down in an echo of how he’d held her.

He doesn’t fight her – dark eyes locked upon vivid green and Harry understands now, understand so much about this man she had loathed for _years._

“You wanted me to live.”

The words ring in the silence of the forest as she leans down above him, pushing her forehead against his as she trembles, tears dripping onto the lines in his cheeks.

“ _You_ wanted me to _live._ ”

Her breath ghosts over his lips, a brush of heat as he tenses below her and his eyes widen as she draws back, brushing a thumb over the soft skin beneath his eye, cradling his chin gently as she slanted her lips over his to a shocked exhalation, large hands curling around her upper arms as she kisses him.

“Don’t leave,” she whispers against his lips as she draws back. “Not – after _everything_.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re asking of me,” Snape says, eyes unreadable, his grip tightening on her arms. “You’re young – I’m old enough to be your father. Everything about this-“

Harry pushes her lips back against his, kissing him with clumsy desperation, not wanting to hear what she already knew.

There is no love lost between them – their history is complicated, messy, and there’s more hate than love inside of her chest when she looks upon him. But the raw echo of his love for her mother, that horrified twist inside of his chest when Albus had told him of her fate; that he’d always meant for her to _die_ -

“I’m not a gentle man,” he whispers when she draws back for air.

 _“I know,”_ Harry tells him and his grip tightens painfully.

This time when she pushes up against him he shifts one hand, settling it against the back of her neck, curling in the long strands there and deepening it, licking into her mouth, quickly dominating it as she shivered at the feel of his tongue delving into her, taking for his own want as she surrendered willingly.

Snape tightens his grip and rolls them over, pressing her against the cold grassy ground, shifting and spreading her legs with a push of his hips up against her and she breathes in startled at the feel of the bulge in his pants as he kisses her with force, drawing back and scraping his teeth down her jaw, sucking on the soft skin just beneath her chin as she tilts her head back with a quiver of nervousness and arousal clawing for equal attention.

The taboo acknowledgement of just who was spreading her legs makes her chest twist up even as her breath hitches at the feel of his tongue dragging roughly up her wind-pipe, mouth sealing and sucking dark bruises against her skin as he pushes up against her, letting her feel the size of his arousal, the overwhelming difference of his tall broad stature against hers.

He grasps and rucks up her dress and she jerks up against his touch when he presses down and drags fingers up and over the thin fabric of her panties, middle-finger dipping down to stroke over her entrance as she moans into his mouth at the feel of him, this man who she’d spent years _hating_ -

He drags the fabric of the panties aside and Harry’s eyes open wide as he pushes two fingers up and into her, spreading her forcefully on rough padded fingers that curls as she arches with a shocked cry quickly swallowed by his mouth, fucking her upon them as she squirms beneath him, unprepared for the reality of having something inside of her when there’d been nothing but quick rubs against her clit in the darkness of the Gryffindor sleeping quarters during dark nights with twisted want.

Snape’s hands are broad, his fingers thick, and there’s little regard for her as he takes her, pressing deep with knuckles that scrape against her insides, uncaring for the fact that for all that she wanted it her walls hadn’t been given a chance to lubricate and it edges into such a strange mishmash of pain and pleasure that she can do nothing but hang-on he pushes her forcefully into an overwhelming orgasm that makes her cramp down upon him, slick clinging to his fingers when he slowly drags them out of her.

His fingers presses against her lips and Harry opens – tasting herself on his fingers, wrapping her tongue and cleaning him up under the intense regard of his dark eyes.

He shifts and Harry feel her rump hoisted up, panties dragged off and discarded, leaving her folds bare against the rough drag of the fabric of his pants as he settles against her, shifting to drag the dress off her with a forced arch of her back and a flush as it leaves her completely bare beneath him, shivering at the feel of the prickling grass beneath her as he settles his palms flat against her belly, dragging up and grasping her breasts, mashing sensitive nipples pebbled from the cold against the roughness of his palms.

Harry squirms at the contrasting heat of his palms against the coldness of the grass and the wind, breathing hitching, red spreading from her cheeks and down her chest at the intent focus in his eyes at the sight of her bare body beneath him – legs hitched and spread, leaving her bare for his view, messy black hair spread out around her head, the vivid green of her eyes blown in pleasure beneath his touch.

Harry is unprepared for the way he leans down, mouth sealing around one of her nipples with a warm wet suck that makes her jerk with a ragged whimper, fingers finding and digging into the oily dark strands of his hair, pushing him down harder, back curling to chase the bulge in his pants only to have him grasp and grind down _hard,_ tongue flattening roughly over the pebbled flesh as she jerks with a muffled noise.

As Snape draws back she can only stare up at him as he reaches for the button his pants, dragging the zipper down and freeing himself with a drag up the girthy erection, her cheeks flushing at the realization that he’d been going commando – her mouth drying as he flattened it up against her, letting her see the way the head reaches far too high on her belly to mean anything well for her as the colour drains from her faster than it had arrived.

Snape groans at the sight and Harry swallows, eyes locking on the drop of pre cum beading on the top of the thick mushroom like head, sees the thick veins, the thick stretch of it as he slowly rubs himself against the skin of her flat belly, smearing it out in a line before dragging back, hoisting her further up on his thighs as he nudges it flat up against her entrance and pushes forward as she claws lines into the grass.

“Snape, no– it’s too- you're _too big_ -“ Harry protests, feeling the impossibility of it with a flare of terror when he ignores her, gripping at her hip to keep her still, grasping himself with the other as he pushes forward until her entrance has no choice but to spread and her eyes opens wide, arms jerking up only to be pinned down as he shifts his hips, putting more weight on her as the head was forced into her with an obscene sort of spread that made her lock up – tightening around him, feet drawing back to push back, to get away, only for him to push down harder and heavier, feeding inch after inch into her as she claws, twisting, tears burning in her eyes, a sob caught in her throat.

“Pull it out –“ she gasps, “pull it out, pull it out, pull it out-“

He hilts himself into her with a push of his hips, settling himself crotch to crotch as she makes a mute noise of terror at the bulge visible against the flatness of her belly as he breathes out, thumb brushing up against the inside of her wrist.

“I warned you,” he says in that heavy drawl of his, something like relish in his gaze as he looks down on the sight of his cock spreading her out upon him, impaled and unable to do anything but hang on – a sob lost with the first drag and push into her depth, head flattening against the very end of her pussy, up against her cervix with a curl of her back, trying to pull back but unable to.

Snape shifts, grasping at her hips, her hands curling around his wrists as he levels himself with a grunt as she takes him impossibly deeper and Harry doesn’t want to take pleasure from it but she _does_ , the edge of pain dragging into something else as he fucks her slow and hard, letting her feel his cock, balls slapping against her, everything terrifying and alien.

She grasps at his wrist, desperate for anything to hold onto, feeling his muscles, fingers digging bruises into her hips, whimpering as he grinds down into her depth, eyes closing as she bows into a forced orgasm with a gasp and a choked cry as he doesn't falter for even a second.

 _“Look at me!”_ The snap of his voice, the hard thrust, makes her eyes open wide – locking onto him as he grits his teeth and takes her harder, faster, and Harry realises _why_ just as the realization of the situation dawns, that what months living on the bare necessities, constantly on the run meant for her body and she clenches down on him in panic.

“I’m not – Snape, I’m not on any potions-“ She digs her heels into the ground and tries to push off him only to have him tighten his grip and she meets his eyes, widening at the naked _want_ visible there, tongue twisting up, feeling the bare drag of his cock as it swelled inside of her, his hips smacking up against her even as her muscles strained against him.

And then he was hilting himself impossible deep, making sure his cock was flat against the entrance to her womb, pushing her down and grasping her tight to make sure she couldn’t do anything at the feel of semen exploding into her as he came, her heart stuttering to a stop – eyes wide and shocked at the feel of him filling her up with a push forward, grinding the sticky warmth into her depth.

He slowly relaxes and Harry swallows as he brushes his palm over her belly, quivering as he bent down, placing a kiss on it, and Harry’s walls clenches down, dragging him deeper inside of her as he brushes an possessive palm down her side.

She should be angry but there’s a strange dissonance in her feelings as she feels the thick cum inside of her as he grasps and hoists her hips up higher, leveraging her, letting her feel it seeping deeper into her.

His memories still tickles at her mind – his anger, his grief, the resignation and – despite everything – his love for Albus who had been the closest thing to a real father to him.

Harry knows that now, understand why there’s always been a resonance between them for all that they were completely different people. 

Of all the people in her life there was no one that would ever understand her better.

To everyone else Albus had been a man unchallengeningly good, raised on a pedestal to die upon it to save them, and it _burns_ because Harry had died on his word, had seen the end as she met the red eyes of the Dark Lord across the field and challenged him to see her dead at his hand.

Because that's how Albus had shaped her - good despite the avarice of her relatives, ready to make the sacrifice play for the larger picture.

Just like him.

She hadn’t expected to live – the decision made with the wailing of a child still ringing in her eyes and soft fingers pushing up against her neck to feel her pulse beneath them.

Their fates has always been twisted up together – Snape's life anchored on the hope that she’d bring the end to the man that had taken his childhood friend from him, his struggles and horrifying realization that, for him to be free she had to die, the echoing resonation of the betrayal just as consuming inside of her own chest.

 _What now?_ Those had been the words echoing through her when Voldemort fell to his knees, leaving nothing but a deep aching hole inside of her as he collapsed down at her feet to cheers that rose around her after the disbelief had faded, arms being thrown around her, relief and happiness bubbling even as she stared down at Voldemort crumbled on the ground with nothing but emptiness in her chest.

If their bond to Albus had been complicated it was nothing compared to the knotted mess inside of her at the sight of Voldemort finally dead at her hand.

And Snape understands that too, Harry knows now, staring up at him – dark eyes meeting green.

Voldemort had marked Snape young, giving him something to fight his father’s violence with when Albus refused to – the brand on his wrist his salvation even as it cost him the one person he had dared to love other than his mother.

And just like Harry had begged to stay during summers, Snape had done the same, as had the boy that had been Tom Riddle before he turned into something else entirely.

Harry had met Tom Marvolo Riddle as he had been at sixteen; tall and clever, handsome and hurting, burnt from his experiences in the world and determined to make it hurt just as bad.

In their own ways, there were little to celebrate about Voldemort’s death for he was what they could have been.

 _“Severus.”_ She lets her voice caress the name. “You’ve always been a right _bastard._ ”

“And you never stop to _think._ ” He tickles fingers beneath the small shape of her breasts. “Rushing head first into things, never learning the meaning to take a step back and consider the situation.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I did that,” Harry tells him, meeting his eyes.

He pauses, something heavy in his gaze. “Exactly,” he says, dragging his fingers into the dip of her navel. “On your back, nude and spread on a Death Eater's cock, a man as old as your parents had been had they lived – that’s what your inability to _stop_  and _think_ has put you into.”

“Do you regret it?” Harry wonders. “Even now you’re growing hard inside of me.” She squeezes down around him, just to make her point, feeling the achy growth as he stretches her.

“What kind of man would I be if I wasn’t?” he breathes, something dark creeping into his voice. “I took you hard and without concern for anything but my own pleasure, ignoring everything that pointed to this being your first time.” He drags his nails over her ribs. “I pushed you far past your limits and came inside of you even when you begged me not to.” He spreads his fingers, palm pushing flat against her belly. “And you’re not angry with me.” There’s something unfathomable in his tone and eyes, an inability to understand why she’d chased after him, why she’d kissed him, why she wasn’t leaving even after everything.

But there’s also understanding there – in their shared history and the strange bond between them, unacknowledged until he shared his memories with her, forcing her to understand his role in it even if she didn’t like it, the care that had grown unwillingly as she grew to become her own person in his eyes and not just a resonance of her mother.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he tells her even as he swells fully inside of her, drawing back and pushing inside of her with a ragged breath as she spreads her legs, pushing down with her heels against the ground to meet him with curl of her back into the next thrust. “You should be with your _friends._ ”

“And yet here we are,” Harry observes, clenching down, dragging her walls up his length as he pulls out.

The next push is harder and her breath catches at the edged pain, clenching down in response, nearly locking him in place as he jerks, cursing as he stills with a thick swallow.

“You’ve spent years pretending you hated me,” Harry says, reaching up to cradle his face between her palms. “And a part of you genuinely did – saw too much of _James_ where there should have been _Lily_.” She clenches her legs around him, dragging him down deep. “But it was _Harry_ you wanted to _live_.”

“Don’t read more into this than there is, _Potter,”_ he warns, making a move to pull away, but Harry is already lurching up, forcing him into a roll, cock yanked roughly out of her as he lands hard on his back and Harry is already moving, palms settling hard on his hips to keep in in place as her face ended up level with his cock.

He freezes at the sight of her, something complicated on his gaze as she meets his eyes and leans down, tongue curling out to drag up the underside of his cock and all the way to the head, tasting the mix of them upon him as she repeats it, stretching her jaw, dragging up the sides, sealing and dragging her lips to cum and slick that clings to her mouth.

She opens up, swallowing the head into her her, dragging her tongue over the slit as his hips stutters up before she pushes him down, grasping him tight as she pulls back with saliva that clings between his cock and her mouth.

His hands finds and digs into the long black messy hair, curling it tight, and the next time she opens up and swallows him into her he urges her deeper, pulling her back and pushing back down, testing her limits, straining until she gags and her eyes are glittering before dragging her back and forcing her to repeat it to further and further depth.

The smell of his musk is overwhelming, the salty twist of the cum heavy on her tongue as his cock glides up and along it, and she shouldn’t be enjoying it but she _is_ – it’s empowering to see the way his muscles strains as it curves down her throat with a choked cough as it sealed up her airways, leaving her nose uncomfortably pressed against the dark rough strands at the root of it.

She curls her back and pushes against him and he allows her to pull back all the way off him with a lick against his slit.

“Are you still going to leave?” she challenges him with a cock of her head.

“Potter-“

_“Harry.”_

He looks at her – eyes dark and heavy and they both know it’s wrong, that they never should have allowed it to go as far as it had.

But Harry can still feel his cum inside of her and the taste of him on her tongue.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I know _exactly_ what I’m asking you.” Her eyes narrow upon him. “I’m asking you to make it _personal._ ”

He grasps and drags her down, pushing her down on her belly beneath him, settling spread on her thighs and thrusting into her with a jerk of her hips as he hilts into her with the new position, setting a punishing pace that makes her back arch, fingers clawing into the grass, balls and hips smacking painfully up against her with every rough push, nipples dragging against the grassy ground, the world around her wet and cold as she curls her muscles tight and pushes up flat on her knees to make him hilt deeper to a stuttered curse.

He pulls out of her, grasping and pulling her up on her feet only to push her up against the closest tree to rough bark that scrapes against her chest and breasts as he angles his hips down, hoisting her up on her toes as he pushes back inside of her, taking her hard against the tree as she clings to it, barely hanging on.

“Is that- is that the best you can do?” she gasps as he pushes painfully inside of her.

In response he finds and pushes into her back entrance, her muscles knotting and locking up in shock at the feel of his fingers spreading her out while he kept fucking her, twisting inside of her as she clawed into the wood.

“What would you do,” he asks with clenched teeth and a hard breath as he hilts up, “if I were to push in _here_?”

“Is that what you dream of?” Harry gets out, clenching down on his fingers and cock. “To spread my ass out on your cock?”

His teeth sinks into her shoulders and she jerks as he pushes all the way into her and comes for a second time that night, his warm breath misting in the cool night air as he breathes hard against her skin, dragging his fingers out of her, arms slowly and hesitantly coming up and around her, dragging her back against his warm chest, grip tight.

“You’re impossible,” he says with a ghost of disbelief and she wants to look at him but there’s little she can do in the little wiggleroom his grip allows. “Why do you always insist on doing things that are the direct opposite of any sane person?”

“I’m a Gryffindor,” she deadpans as he sighs, sinking down onto the ground and leaning back against the tree with her still in his arms.

“Nothing good will come from this,” he breathes against the skin of her neck as she shivers, feeling the warmth of his grip as she shifts, twisting in his grip and pushing up to put them face to face.

“I am alive because of you,” she tells him, dipping her fingers into his oily hair and pushing it back from his lined face before placing a kiss in top of his crooked nose. “I would have died my first year if it wasn’t for you and I would not have made it to the end of the war if you hadn’t guided me in the light of the doe in the forest. I don’t really care about _good._ I just want what I want and that happens to be you."

“I’m old.”

“Wizards and witches lives far longer lives than muggles, it’s all relative.”

“Not to the rest of the world.” He reaches for her and Harry stills as her breasts pushes up against his chest, head leaning against his shoulder, mind struggling to compute the fact that the man was hugging her, practically curling around her, something desperate and possessive alike in the way he holds her.

"It was supposed to be _my_ child," he confesses, but despite the heaviness of the words it's just an old hurt.

"Our lives didn't turn out anything like expected, hm?" Harry says tiredly, relaxing into his warmth. "I'm glad, you know - that you aren't. It would make all of this pretty weird."

He tightens his hold on her in response.

"Do you think Albus would be happy with us if we just - disappear?" She stares at the dark fabric of his cloak. "I'm not... I don't really want to return," she admits, quietly. "I'm tired."

She shifts at his touch, allowing him to guide her down on the spread of his cock, relaxing against him as he fucks into her, breathing in the cloying scent of potions, the musky mix of their sweat as he bottoms out a third time, the head of his cock locked against her cervix as sticky whiteness paints her walls.

She touches a trembling hand against her belly, clenching around him as she rests her forehead against his shoulder and his hand dips down to catch her fingers in the grasp of his.

His shoulder nudges up against her cheek, making her draw back, eyes meeting and she presses her her lips against his.

Snape drags their joined fingers down and Harry’s hips hitches against the press against her clit, making her clench down against him.

His teeth scrapes over her ear.

“I think that, what Albus wanted, was for us to survive and be happy, _Harry.”_

**Author's Note:**

> It was a question in one of the discord chats I haunt regarding what Snape would have done if he lived and I'm pretty damn convinced the man would just _bolt_.
> 
> So, here we are.
> 
> Severus is an interesting character, very human in a petty and sort-of selfish way so I def enjoyed writing this!
> 
> Artsy-death on tumblr if you're passing by,
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
